


Can I See Them?

by misha_collins_butt



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Angel Wings, Black Wings - Freeform, Castiel wings, Castiel's Wings, Destiel Fluff, Feather Play, M/M, Wings, destiel smut, selfconscious!cas, shy!Castiel, wing play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel the Angel is ever shy of allowing anyone to ever see his wings. But with Dean, it's harder to deny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I See Them?

**Author's Note:**

> just a little ficlet for someone on tumblr.

"Well...they're very sensitive," Castiel squirms under Dean's calculative eyes - they're not judgmental, purely curious. But Cas still finds it slightly uncomfortable and the green-eyed human seems to notice.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I just...ya know, man, I'm human. I don't know what it's like to have wings," Dean's reply is implicitly lethargic, but overall careful and worried. 

Cas nods and his eyes begin to dance downward over Dean's body. He stops this action - for the billionth time - by letting his eyes fall, instead to the floor, and scratching the back of his neck - a very human action he's picked up from so much time around Sam and Dean. His movements are practised, determined and methodical, things he's learned to do over the years to draw Dean's attention away from the fact that Cas was about to admire his body.

"I don't...know what to say to that," Cas mumbles and continues to avert his eyes, glancing everywhere but Dean's face afraid of what he might find (which is stupid, really, he knows).

Dean chuckles and Cas watches out of his periphery as Dean's hand reaches out and hovers for a moment over his shoulder before it collapses back into Dean's lap.

The man is so afraid to even visibly touch Cas unless the angel is hurt in some way or another. It didn't much bother Cas at first, but, especially now, it makes his stomach drop.

"It's fine, Cas."

"I'm sorry."

"Dude."

Cas looks up at Dean slowly, not knowing what to expect.

What he finds is gentle eyes and sad smile attached to a beautiful face--

What is he thinking? Humans and angels are not allowed to interact that way. Ever. He may have deviated from heaven from time to time to help the Winchesters, but he can't ever break that rule.

Of course...

Two men can't procreate...

 _Mind out of the gutter. You're a warrior of heaven, not a schoolgirl_ , Cas castigates himself.

"Seriously it's fine," Dean's words finally hit his ear and Cas smiles faintly, bearing the burden of having not answered at the right time.

But then Dean bites his lip and Cas steels himself for the next question. Dean doesn't ever bite his lip unless his next words are difficult for him to say. And if they're difficult for Dean to say, they're probably difficult for someone to hear.

"Can I see them?" His voice is just a breath of a whisper, a crack disturbing the still air, and the words are quiet, but they ring so loudly in Cas's ear.

"What?" Cas replies breathlessly, blanching at the idea.

His wings are _black_. Disturbing, disgusting, _ugly_. Not meant for an angel. Not the colour that people expect of an angel. Not what Dean would want to see. And Dean's criticism has never been something Cas particularly enjoys.

"Can I see them, Cas?" Dean's voice is even more quiet now, if that's remotely possible, and he twists his body so he can look Cas straight in the eye. "Please?" He adds quickly, the word short and sharp.

"Dean--"

"Please, Cas--"

"They're not..." Cas pauses and laughs defensively, dragging a hand down the side of his face and scratching at the back of his neck again. "They're...disgusting."

Dean gives him a skeptical look and when Cas doesn't answer the silent question, Dean shakes his head and sighs.

"Dean, they're ugly. I hate them, I'm sure you'll hate them, best case scenario," Cas explains and his voice become softer, more reserved when he adds, "And they're black. And they're broken and scarred. And you wouldn't want to know me if you knew what they look like." 

"Now, how could an angel's wings be anything but beautiful," Dean responds and both his gentle tone and the words themselves surprise Cas, and his head whips up to catch Dean's gaze.

"They just are--"

"And why don't I believe you?" Dean's eyebrows pull in and he pushes up and out of the reclining chair. When he reaches Cas, who sits on the very edge of the couch, he kneels in front of the angel so their eyes are leveled and he presses Castiel's chin up with his finger. When Cas looks at Dean, he sees, not pity, but a determined kind of love that he thinks Dean doesn't know appears every so often in his eyes as he watches Cas. And Cas almost smiles. Almost. 

He can't. He can't give the way Dean shows his unpronounced love away. Not yet.

"Your candor is appreciated," Cas snarks, his sarcasm being another thing appropriated from the Winchester boys. 

"Seriously Cas, there's no possible way your wings aren't just as amazing as I imagine. If not more."

"Dean, they are very far from--"

"Cas. This argument is becoming archaic."

Cas swallows his words and his pride and looks away, giving in to Dean's own words and his touch, which Cas cannot bring himself to resist.

He breathes in and shifts his weight forward so he can balance on the edge of the couch when his wings appear (they're heavy when they're visible to humans).

He breathes out and unfolds the black feathers from his back, anxious nails digging into his heart, and the claw scraping at his stomach becoming malevolent.

Cas stretches his wings to their fullest extent and continues to look away from Dean as his shoulders become sore with weight of the visibility of his wings.

He hears Dean let out an awe-inspired gasp, a relieving sound - because it's not one of disgust or disdain. It's one of utter amazement. 

"Holy fuck, Cas," Dean breathes and he stands abruptly, pacing slowly across the span of Cas' left wing. "You're shitting me." He turns with incredulity in his eyes and stares at Cas, who simply glances sideways and brings a hand up to hide his blood rushed cheek. "You're _shitting_  me!" Dean repeats and walks back toward Cas. "These are your wings?! Cas, form what you said, I was expecting...I don't know. Not this."

Dean reaches out and Cas' eyes go wide.

Before he can say anything, though, Dean's hand is brushing through the curtain of feathers and Cas' toes curl beneath themselves almost painfully, every single one of his muscles tensing and his face contorting to a mix between pleasure and a terrified grimace.

He shifts away out of instinct and his wings pull back from Dean's touch.

Dean furrows his eyebrows and his eyes twitch to Cas. But when he sees the look on Cas' face - head down, eyes closed, lips parted, eyebrows dropping, clipped and unstable breathing, his altogether appearance drawn and withering - he scrambles to a crouch in front of Cas, taking Cas' cheeks in his hands.

"Cas, what's wro--" he doesn't finish, though, his voice stuttering, then petering out, when the realisation seems to punch him in the gut and send him staggering back. He nods once, slowly, and bites down on his lip for the second time in fifteen minutes. "Cas, when you said your wings are sensitive..."

"Yeah, yes," Cas replies quickly, his voice strained and squeaky, and his head nodding vigourously. 

"So..." Dean pauses and there's a smirk on his lips and soaking into his voice. Not good. "So, that's kinda kinky."

"Excuse me?" 

"That's, uh..." Dean suppresses a laugh and a shit eating smile. "That's actually really hot, Cas, I gotta say."

Cas bristles and tries to rip his eyes away from Dean. 

He can't.

"You don't hate them?" Cas whispers, an annoyingly steadfast smallness clinging to his words. 

"Cas..." Dean shakes his head, and Cas realises Dean's hand is still groping his face. He stifles a smirk. "They're the most beautiful thing...I've ever seen. In my entire life. I've never..."

Cas knows he shouldn't wait for Dean to finish his sentence, and he doesn't, because Dean won't. But he does remain silent, cherishing the fact that Dean doesn't find Cas's wings as revolting as he does.

"Dean."

Dean had been admiring the wings again, and his hand had slipped from Cas' cheek to his neck to his chest. Dean still hasn't noticed. 

Castiel isn't sure he wants him to.

So Dean's eyes pivot back to watch Cas, and the absolute pureness of Dean's soul hits Cas yet again, smacking him across the face and sneering at him from a spotlit circle.

It's innocent and frightened, but obstinate, and defiant, and _powerful_. And it growls lovingly, in all its glory, basking in the light of an affectionate angel.

"Cas what is it," Dean's voice his sharp, on high alert, in contrast to his hand, still lounging serenely against Cas' chest.

"Nothing. You're just really beautiful," Cas breathes and his eyes widen when what he's just said registers in his own mind. He opens his mouth to speak again, but instead of any more words coming out, a pair of lips touch his and he furrows his brows, not quite understanding what's happening.

But the lips are soft and careful against his. So he just goes with it.

When Dean pulls away, Cas notices that the hunter's breathing comes in silent, rapid bursts and his face is tomato red, and Cas smiles. Or he tries to, anyway.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispers quickly, but he makes no move to back away from the situation - or Castiel's face, for that matter.

"It's fine," is all that escapes Cas' throat before Dean's eyebrows fall low over his eyes again and the green orbs are narrowed between his eyelids.

Cas doesn't understand the look until he feels a hand sliding over the sleek surface of his wings again, and he grunts from the physical exertion of attempting to keep himself from crumbling and melting into the nearest solid object. Which would be Dean.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it...they're so beautiful," Dean repeats and he presses a short kiss to Cas' forehead before standing and catching up to his hand. He walks the length of the left wing again and his hands twist and twirl and dance around and between the feathers, teasing them and separating them and pushing them up and shifting them. And all the while, Cas is is progressively becoming smaller, hunching over, curling in on himself and digging his nails into his hands, fisting his toes, his limbs and all his muscles trembling and straining. 

And suddenly, Dean brushes his thumb in a circle over one of the feathers at the very tip of Cas' wing and he can't fucking take it anymore; he lets out a noise that can't seem to decide between frustration and lust, and collapses against his own knees, breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably.

By the time Dean has rushed to his side, Cas is a quivering mess with his hands caught in his hair and his skin clammy and his face slack and his voice non responsive.

"Cas, you okay?"

 _No_.

"Yes, I'm fine," he manages to choke out and he relishes Dean's fingers tangling in his hair at the back of his head and Dean's other hand finding his cheek again.

Cas' left wing tingles and folds back, trying to shake off the residue that human hands always leave behind - it's not poisonous, it just feels strange and oily, and it gives the angel the very distinct sensation that there is still a hand there. And as you can imagine, it would be slightly uncomfortable to feel that _all the time._

Cas drops his hand from his face and peeks up at Dean with a new determination set in his eyes and in his jaw. 

"Do that to the other one," he whispers, and, for good measure, he lets his hand reach out and skim over Dean's cheek. Just fleetingly. Or, at least, that's what was intended. 

He had never expected for Dean's own hand to whip up and hold Cas's hand in place.

The human nods, turns his lips into Castiel's palm, pressing them to the soft skin there, and stands again. 

Dean's hand is hesitant at first, but he eventually finds the blatancy he'd had with the other wing.

And Cas melts again.

And this isn't the best idea he's ever had, but damnit all if he isn't enjoying every fucking second of it.


End file.
